Uncharted Territory
by astrophilic
Summary: Draco accidentally does the impossible; he gets sorted as a— a Gryffindor. Now he has to deal with boisterous housemates, ridiculously righteous ideals, and that godawful red and gold theme he's actually expected to like. Will Draco ever learn the true meaning of courage? Not just yet, but perhaps even never. A Draco Malfoy in Gryffindor fic. Reposted!
1. Innocence, in a Sense

The circumstances: Draco's mum is a bit mad so she chose an unreasonable date to go shopping. There was a delay in delivering Harry's letter so he went on one of the last possible days instead. As a result... Draco and Harry meet in Flourish and Blotts instead, with a slightly out-of-it Draco!

Some characteristics: Narcissa seems crazy— or maybe she just has a split personality; Draco chooses not to know when to shut up— ah, wait, that's already a trait of his, isn't it?; and Ron's— well, I must say he's still Ron, but...

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. Some lines seen below are taken from HPSS.

I hope you enjoy reading! I know I enjoyed writing this.

* * *

**Chapter 1:**  
**Innocence, in a Sense**

_Life is always at some turning point._  
_~Irwin Edman_

* * *

Lightly skimming a finger on the binds of dusty books shelved and forgotten years ago, Draco Malfoy sneezed. He scowled slightly, glaring up at the towering shelf in front of him.

"See if there's a Magical Theory book in the W section, dear," he mimicked his mother under his breath. "As if a first year book could be stashed in this old corner."

It was August 30th, a rather late time to be buying school books, since Hogwarts would be starting in two more days. Flourish and Blotts was in a state of near-chaos with stragglers who had decided, like the Malfoys, to buy their books last minute. Draco couldn't fathom why his mother had suddenly chosen today to go, out of all the times his father had offered to take them.

He had even almost begun to think that Narcissa had forgotten the essential trip to Diagon Alley, before she had woken him up in the dead of night (in reality, about 6 AM) ..._ the_ _dead of night _and dragged him and Lucius to go shopping. But they _hadn't _gone shopping, at least not immediately.

They'd gone on a trek around other purebloods' homes and Narcissa had conversed with the ladies of the Manors while Lucius and Draco sat silently on chairs, wondering despairingly why they were there and when it would all end. In fact, it seemed Narcissa had only remembered her original goal of shopping at the last moment.

Draco blankly scanned the shelf two more times, before letting out a frustrated huff of air. He had acquired a headache from being woken up so suddenly, and his thoughts were swimming. His family was _rich,_ for Circe's sake, why couldn't they just order by owl and save themselves the trouble?

Frowning, and glancing back in the direction where he had left his mother to collect the other books, he figured he should have gotten used to his mother's odd little quirks and compulsions over the years.

He hadn't.

She unnerved Draco sometimes (read: all the time), one minute being a perfectly poised and respectable pureblooded witch with a son she called sweet and frankly embarrassing nicknames, and the next giving him sharp smiles that made him flinch and double-edged comments that dug into his skin and made the blood drain from his face.

Other times she acted without reason, choosing to do things in her own illogical way and not caring to hear what's wrong or right. It usually alarmed Draco, because more than once he had found her crying in her study, trying to break a hand mirror by violently slamming it repeatedly on her desk. Draco had long ago come to the guilty conclusion that Narcissa was rather dangerous when that mood struck her, in an unstable and frightening way.

Draco absently wandered away from the W section and started to search a different shelf, hoping that maybe a spare Magical Theory was tucked somewhere among other books.

He turned his head slightly to the left and widened his eyes as he saw a blueish-grey tome neatly perched horizontally on thick, red volumes. Written on the bind in silver lettering were the words '_A. WAFFLING, Magical Theory_'.

Not believing his good fortune, and also vaguely wondering whether he was still sleepy enough to be imagining things, he smiled delightedly and reached up to take it. The second he grabbed it, though, another hand did the same. He blinked and turned incredulously to the other person next to him, who returned the expression with timid yet striking eyes the color of the Killing Curse.

He almost let go of the book in shock, but then he remembered who he was and gripped it tighter. Draco sent a stare that was both challenging and unimpressed to the boy in front of him. "Hey," he said, adopting the slow, bored drawl he used in public. "Mind taking your hands off my book?"

"_Your_ book?" The black-haired boy's voice was slightly indignant, and rightly so since they had seemingly grabbed the book at the same time, but it was hard for Draco to take him seriously with his messy excuse for hair and ridiculous circular glasses.

Draco began to nod, but it made his headache worsen. He winced, his head spinning for a second or two, and then tried to pull the book off the shelf and out of the boy's hand to no avail. The other seemed to have a death grip. "Of course. It's mine. My one and only. It's practically my beloved."

He paused, and when his brain dazedly caught up to his words, he almost smacked himself. _Time to quit talking, Draco._

"A book? Your _beloved_?"

"Ours is a forbidden love," Draco deadpanned before he could stop himself.

The boy stared at him incredulously. Draco flushed slightly and took that as a sign to take off. Hastily exclaiming an "Aha!", he slapped the boy's hand off _Magical Theory _and dashed out of the aisle, looking for his mother with the book held to his chest.

After a few moments of searching the store, he found her coldly staring down the shop clerk, who seemed to be shrinking inside himself. As he approached, he could her her speaking in her best _I-am-better-than-you-so-listen-to-me _voice.

"...hardly think it is appropriate that most of the books needed for my child's magical education are sold out, or... 'hidden somewhere in that pile there,'" she said the last part with a darkly mocking tone in her voice, clearly quoting something the clerk had said.

Draco noted with a thoughtful nod that she had switched from her doting mother mood to frightening pureblooded witch while he had been gone.

The rapidly reddening man started to respond, but she continued. "I expect, that by the time I come back to this store, that I will have a complete collection of the books listed in the Hogwarts first year requirements." Her gaze flickered to the book clutched in Draco's hands. "My son has already found one. Find the rest."

Draco stepped forward and tentatively held out the book to the clerk, who took it from him with a disgruntled expression. He made a point to look somewhere past the clerk's shoulder, because if he made eye contact the man would see _sympathy,_ and he had been taught better than to sympathize with others openly if there was nothing to gain.

"Come, darling," his mother said, not bothering to look at him as she swirled around and headed towards the exit. "Let's get you your uniform."

He took one last look at the resentful clerk before trailing after his mother.

**-;-**

A little over half an hour later found Draco almost done in Madam Malkin's, staring anxiously at his reflection with troubled grey eyes. He was worrying over his encounter with the black-haired boy as a witch put finishing touches on his robes.

Maybe the boy wasn't a first year, he told himself. Maybe he didn't even go to Hogwarts. Maybe he'd keep quiet about Draco's idiocy at Flourish and Blotts. Maybe, maybe...

Maybe the boy _did _go to Hogwarts, and maybe the boy _was _a first year, and if he was then he would get to make fun of Draco because of his ridiculous statements about being in a _romantic_ _relationship _with a _book._

Draco suppressed the urge to moan into his hands.

That would be just his luck, wouldn't it?

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was walking by Hagrid's side, determinedly trying not to get trampled on by the hustle of wizards and witches. He was still quite annoyed at the unnamed blonde boy for snatching the book from him like that, because it meant he had had to search the store for another half hour before he found a copy again.

Harry and Hagrid had rushed around the store and looked for the other books in Harry's list, very nearly losing the last copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_ to an indignant little woman who wanted it for some 'sentimental rereading'. Hagrid had called her an 'old Ravenclaw,' whatever that meant. Harry supposed it was probably wizard slang that meant 'bookworm', or something along those lines.

Not for the first time, Harry wished his uncle hadn't been so sneaky in destroying his Hogwarts letters, or at least messed up in escaping Hagrid sooner. The time spent on the stormy island had gotten Harry sick, and it had been days after that Hagrid found them.

He felt as though he should have been bedridden, and had thought he was hallucinating by the time he first saw the half-giant, waving that pink umbrella of his around in the air. It took him another few days to accept that no, he wasn't losing his mind, and yes, by all accounts, magic was definitely real and he was a wizard.

Imagine_—_ Harry Potter, a wizard!

Harry had tried very hard not to dwell on the fact that he was a famous one. After being ignored and mistreated for the past eleven years, he just couldn't wrap his head around it.

He now only wished he had come to terms with the truth about the wizarding world sooner, because it seemed August 30th was a day of running around and hoping the materials and books you needed weren't sold out yet.

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts as he and Hagrid stopped in front of a store whose sign declared it to be _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. _

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding at the store. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off to get snacks fer us both? 'm feeling a bit hungry after searching for yer books an' all." He did look pleading, so Harry nodded reluctantly. He entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, kind-looking witch dressed all in mauve, and she was gathering sewing materials from a high shelf when Harry came in. She gave him a glance and smiled.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here— another young man just finishing being fitted up right now, in fact."

Harry sent her a hesitant smile and made his way in the direction that she'd gestured towards.

As he reached the back of the shop, he saw a boy with unmistakable platinum-blond hair who was stepping off a footstool and nodding curtly as a witch informed him that his purchases would be ready soon. He turned clear grey eyes to Harry's direction. Draco jerked back and stilled, recognizing the boy with absurdly messy black hair.

Harry couldn't help but crack an uncertain smile at the boy's direction, because the boy looked so shocked. Perhaps he was feeling so guilty he couldn't bear seeing Harry again. The thought made Harry's smile more solid. "Hello," he said.

The blond boy blinked and raised his chin slightly. "Ah... Hello."

Harry stared. A couple awkward seconds passed as both tried to find what to say.

"Er..." Harry started.

"Are_—_" Draco coughed, "Are you going to Hogwarts, too? First year?" The boy looked rather sickly as he asked the question, and even more so when Harry nodded tentatively.

"I am."

Draco looked horrified, before shaking his head. It was best to not give the green-eyed boy any reason to hate him, then, so he decided to try to not insult him.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?" He imagined the boy as a Hufflepuff, and couldn't help but scoff. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All my family has been_—_ imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Although if the boy were to be a Hufflepuff, Draco wouldn't have to worry about blackmail and teasing. "But _you_ wouldn't have to leave," Draco amended, "because Hufflepuff is where_—_ where the nice ones are. You know, the _non-blackmailing _ones."

He promptly clacked his teeth shut and promised to clean his mouth with soap later. Oh, if Pansy'd heard him, she would have laughed. He sent a paranoid glance around the shop but didn't spot her dark-haired head anywhere.

"Mmm," Harry said uncomfortably, honestly lost in what the other boy was talking about.

The witch who had been pinning Draco's robes came back and handed him a bag filled with magically shrunk school robes. "My father's up the street looking at wands and my mother's just gone next door; you could say she's buying the rest of my books somewhat," the boy offered, trying to keep up a conversation.

Harry's eyes lit up. _Speaking of books..._ "How's your forbidden love with the book going?" Harry couldn't help but ask, grinning.

The boy's pale face tinged with a delicate pink. "Y-You.. It's.." He looked at Harry and then behind him. He suddenly gasped in an over exaggerated manner and pointed behind Harry, slightly to the left. "Oh wow, it's Harry Potter!" he exclaimed in awe.

Harry widened his eyes in disbelief and looked over his left shoulder. "What are you talking_—_"

Draco dashed past Harry's right side and was out of the door before the latter could realize what had happened.

* * *

REFERENCES (of a non-HP nature)

_"Ours is a forbidden love," Draco deadpanned before he could stop himself._  
- is paraphrased and taken from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, said by Willow, episode _Lie to Me_.


	2. Train Predicaments

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 2:  
Train Predicaments**

_Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.  
~Lewis Carroll_

* * *

Draco faced his parents, practically vibrating with anticipation. The Hogwarts Express was only a few feet away, and he had to restrain himself from jumping on like an excited little child.

They had come when the train was almost due to leave, but the platform was still packed. Even so, Draco could easily pick out some of his childhood acquaintances, including Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott, who were bidding their families farewell too.

He saw Pansy Parkinson grinning at her parents, her short, black hair that framed her face making her look as petite as always. Pansy caught him looking and sent him a delighted wave. He flashed her a teasing grin and turned back to his parents.

"We hope you'll have a good time at Hogwarts, Draco dear," said Narcissa lovingly, looking as if she wanted to pat his head. "We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you both as well, Mother," Draco responded, wondering idly whether or not she was acting her part as a mother or was really in one of her doting moods. His eyes flickered to the thick crowd again, and had to stop himself from groaning in horror when he saw a familiar mop of black hair.

He quickly swiveled his gaze back to his parents and forced a smooth expression, hoping to Merlin the boy wouldn't catch sight of him and do something stupid like bring up the Flourish and Blotts incident in front of Draco's parents.

"Remember to find Potter, Draco," Lucius said.

"Yes, Father." Draco looked up to him, trying and failing to hide an eager smile. "I will."

* * *

A few minutes before, Harry had been standing between Platform 9 and Platform 10, staring at the blank wall in bewilderment. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know any magic words to make a door appear, or a combination of brick-tapping Hagrid had used to reveal Diagon Alley.

Harry thought of his Uncle Vernon laughing as he lumbered away, and the sounds of his relatives' laughter as they drove out of sight, and felt a flush of chagrin. He'd find a way, Harry thought firmly. He looked at a young, bored-looking guard who was passing through and wondered if maybe he knew, if he was a wizard undercover as a Muggle. Maybe he was there to help young, clueless wizards like himself. There would be people like those, wouldn't there?

Harry gathered up his courage and walked up to him. "Er," he started. "Excuse me.."

The guard looked at him and gave a polite smile. "Good morning. How may I help you?"

"I was just, um, wondering if you know how to get to Hogwarts..?" Harry faltered when the guard just looked at him with a befuddled frown.

"Hog..?"

"Warts?" Harry said hopefully. Maybe the wizard-slash-guard was testing him, so to be sure he wasn't a Muggle.

Instead, the guard's frown grew more pronounced. "What part of the country is Hog— your destination at?"

Harry opened his mouth, but then was struck by the realization that, he _didn't know. _"I'm not— I'm not really sure..."

The guard looked at him with brief annoyance, as if Harry was being stupid on purpose.

Not even daring to bring up Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry said desperately, "I need to get on the train that leaves at eleven o'clock."

"There's no such train, young man."

Harry shifted uncomfortably for a minute, deciding that that the guard was definitely _not _a wizard in disguise. There was a moment of awkward silence where the guard waited for more questions. Harry coughed uncomfortably, and said quickly in a higher voice than usual, "Nevermind, thank you anyway."

The guard then strode away, muttering things about 'time-wasters', and left Harry feeling rather foolish.

With a stroke of luck, Harry'd found the large redheaded family and had run through the wall with blind faith.

And now he was pushing his way towards the brightly painted Hogwarts Express with no small amount of relief and wonder. He marveled at the sounds of owls and chatter of so many wizards and witches, and the differently colored cats slinking expertly between legs.

One cat yowled as a round-faced boy stepped on it, accidentally letting go of a toad. "Trevor!" cried the boy, and Harry almost tripped over his toad. Harry hesitated, almost about to help, but the crowd was too thick to keep sight of them for more than another moment.

Harry found an empty compartment near the end of the train, and was in the process of taking Hedwig inside when he saw the pale boy from his Diagon Alley trip. He brightened and stopped, watching him in interest. The boy was standing in front of two adults who Harry assumed was his parents, and was speaking to his father with ill-disguised earnestness. The boy then stood extremely still when his mother bent down and hugged him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek.

The boy just blinked owlishly at the woman after she let him go, and then with a jerky little nod, he stepped onto the train and disappeared. Harry frowned for a second, thinking that the boy could have been more appreciative he had a loving mother. He clearly didn't know the importance of family, if he just ran away like that.

Harry started to heave and shove his trunk to the train door, and was very grateful when the twins from the redheaded family came to help him.

* * *

Draco's head was swirling. His mother had just sobbed on his shoulder. Sobbed. On his shoulder. Narcissa Malfoy was the one who had trained him not to cry in public, for Morgan's sake! His feet dragged him towards his compartment, and people shoved at him as they passed, but he could only manage a weak sneer that probably looked like a confused frown.

"Draco!" Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, Draco's childhood friends whom he secretly liked to pretend were his obedient bodyguards, lumbered towards him, and he muttered something that could have been a hello.

"Where were you?" asked Gregory.

Draco blinked, and then answered loftily, "Around. Let's go find Pansy."

"Already here!" a cheerful voice shouted into his ear.

Draco jerked around and saw the said girl, grinning exactly how a proper pureblood witch _shouldn't_. But she had never followed the rules when the adults whom she respected weren't around anyway.

"You know," Draco said slowly, eyeing her toothy grin as if it were dangerous, "There was really no need to shout."

"But I wanted to," Pansy dropped the smile and raised an eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips.

Hurriedly, Draco said, "Right, of course," because after years of being her friend, he had found out — the hard way, mind you — that Pansy Parkinson was a very scary girl if you said the slightest wrong thing around her.

Pansy grinned again. "I've already found a compartment for us. Come on!"

"What? But I already put my chest in another compartment," Draco complained. "You can't make me drag it to wherever you put yours!"

"We've already put our chests in one, and if you expect us to lug our chests around just to follow you, you are mistaken! Right, Greg?" Pansy narrowed her eyes at Gregory, who looked startled.

"Yup," Gregory said. "Mistaken."

Draco sulked. "Whatever. Vince, help me bring my chest?"

Vincent shrugged, and everyone followed Draco to his compartment. Draco and Vincent carried the chest together, with Pansy leading them cheerfully and Gregory making up the back. After a while of heaving the chest, Draco was panting.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Gregory asked. "I can hold your side."

"No!" Draco huffed. "I am not a girl!"

Gregory blinked. "I didn't say you were."

"I'm not!"

"Okay!"

They continued to march through the train without speaking, until Draco couldn't take it anymore. He looked around and asked quite desperately, "Pansy, Pansy, where's the compartment again?"

Pansy turned around, and then made a show of looking around. She affected an air of surprise. "Oh, I think we passed it already!"

There was a second of silence.

"We did," Gregory said slowly, "We did pass it."

"_What?_" Draco looked at all of them in disbelief. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Pansy had that look in her eyes," Vincent whispered.

Pansy skipped towards him and fondly patted Draco's head, as one would do to a puppy. Draco growled and attempted to bite her hand. She pursed her lips and pushed his head lightly, saying, "Come along then!"

Gregory took pity on Draco a few seconds later, and held up his side. Draco only protested half-heartedly, but Pansy took heed and made him pick up Vincent's side with a glare here and a thinly-veiled threat there.

They finally reached a compartment door, which Vincent opened for them. Pansy came in, her head smugly held high. "We have arrived," she announced.

Draco and Gregory heaved the chest inside and pushed it into a corner. Draco collapsed on one of the benches, panting dramatically. He sent a dark look towards Pansy, pointing at her rather rudely. "You wench!"

"Why, thank you," Pansy said, doing a curtsy. "I do learn from the company I keep."

Draco made an indignant sound, making hand motions that probably meant something like, _Shrew! Loose woman! Ogress! _

She only smiled and sat between Vincent and Gregory on the bench in front him. Folding her hands neatly on her lap, Pansy cocked her head and said, "Did your parents tell you we had to do anything today?"

Draco sat up quickly. "Of course." He paused, and then appraised them like a general to his troops, saying, "Today, we are going to search for Harry Potter."

Gregory and Vincent blinked.

"Harry Potter?" Pansy asked, scrunching up her small, upturned nose. "Mother said he'd most likely be a Gryffindor, you know."

Draco shrugged. "Father told me I had to at least try to befriend him." He paused for a moment, and then added, "I hope Potter's not a git."

Pansy laughed. "If he's not, you're going to have trouble befriending him, Dray."

Draco scowled. "I resent that."

The four started looking for Harry Potter, starting from the beginning of the train. Draco and Pansy took one side and Gregory and Vincent took another side. Pansy had to keep reminding them all to knock, and although Gregory and Vincent followed what she said, Draco just whipped the doors open when he felt they were going too slow.

And then Pansy collided into a bushy-haired beaver. "Ow! Watch it!" she snapped, rubbing her arm.

"Sorry," the beaver-who-was-maybe-a-girl said, looking a little affronted. There was a scared looking, round-faced boy next to him, trying to tug the girl away. Draco felt smug; the boy had probably recognized him as a Malfoy. The girl continued nonetheless, "Have you seen a toad?"

"We haven't, so—" Draco glanced at the ground, and slowly raised his gaze back at her incredulously. "There's one next to your feet, you moron."

The girl bristled but looked down, and upon seeing the animal, sighed with relief.

"Oh! Trevor!" The boy cheered happily.

The girl looked uncertain for a moment, and then bent down to grab it. Trevor the toad took one look at the approaching fingers and hopped on them. She gave a little shriek, which Draco secretly thought he couldn't blame her for, because toad skin _was_ rather bizarre at first touch. Trevor hopped onto Pansy's arm. Pansy looked at the bumpy creature on her arm in horror, and screamed bloody murder, flailing her arm everywhere. "Aaaah! Off! Off of me!"

"No, just let me—" the round-faced boy tried to swipe at the toad, "_Wait_—"

The bushy-haired girl looked flustered, trying to help Pansy, but to no avail. Pansy was long gone, waving around like a lunatic. Some people stuck their heads out and watched in bewildered amusement. Gregory and Vincent looked at the scene their friends were causing with wide eyes.

The toad seemed to lose its grip, and unfortunately for Draco, Pansy flung her arm in his direction. Trevor the toad landed on Draco's face. And if he screamed so loudly he sounded just like Pansy but worse, Draco denied it vehemently afterwards. "_GET IT OFF!_" Draco wailed.

Gregory tried to help, tugging on the toad but trying not to hurt it.

Then Vincent helped and they both took Trevor off his face, revealing Draco, flushed and humiliated. "Throw him far, far away from me!" he told Gregory with a stomp of his foot. "Now!"

"Ah, please..." The round-faced boy's eyes grew round.

"Hey, no!" The girl said in indignation. "Give him to us!"

Draco snarled at her, and Gregory threw Trevor down the train, where it disappeared somewhere. The girl stared at them with shock, and then angrily stomped away, throwing a, "You cannot just throw other people's toads!" over he shoulder as she tried to find the toad again. The boy miserably followed after her.

It took Draco a few more minutes to sizzle down, with Pansy saying soothing words and Vincent awkwardly patting him on his back.

He took a deep breath and glared at them, though he wasn't angry at them. Stupid toad of evil. Stupid beaver-human hybrid. Stupid Potter. Stupid Fa— Draco caught himself, and then laughed mentally for his silliness. It wasn't like anyone could hear him. Stupid Father for telling him to look for Potter anyways.

They spent the next quarter of the train ride again searching for The-Boy-Who-Lived. Draco inwardly ranted at his father, which he had never done before, but once he had called his father stupid there was really no going back. Pansy had inevitably given up the search in a huff, and sat down in a compartment with Millicent Bulstrode and two older pureblood girls Draco knew from parties, Flora and Hestia Carrow.

Draco took one look at Gregory and Vincent's longing looks at the girls' candy pile and, knowing his friends' stupidly large appetites, suggested mercifully that they would find Potter faster by splitting up— which meant the pair could go back to their own compartment and buy from the food cart. They did take that wretched toad off of him, anyway.

The pair beamed at him, looking not as dim as one would expect, and that led Draco to the suspicion that they had probably anticipated him letting them do so. He shrugged it off; that meant they were more likely to get into Slytherin, and not in _Gryffindor_ or something equally terrible.

Draco sighed, sharply pulling open another door. An older couple, maybe seventh year sweethearts, jumped from each other and shot him sharp glares, but he rolled his eyes at their ruffled appearances. "Eww." They growled something about bloody first years and he smirked at them, slamming the door hard. He went quicker as he reached near the end of the train, getting annoyed that he hadn't found Harry Potter yet.

How hard could finding a Dark Lord vanquisher be?

* * *

Ron looked rather green.

Harry politely didn't say anything, but when he turned alarmingly pale, Harry ventured, "Are you alright, Ron?"

"I— errgh," Ron covered his mouth. "I think I may have eaten too many Cauldron C-Cakes.." He rushed out of the compartment and almost crashed into a flustered-looking Hermione Granger at the doorway. He was too sickly to even make faces at her.

Ron rushed to the bathroom on the train and locked it, coming out ten minutes later groggy, pale, and with a sour taste in his mouth. He started making his way back to his compartment with Harry, but he got sidetracked by a girl with long, curly hair.

She smiled pleasantly at him. "Ah, a Weasley, aren't you? Have you seen Percy anywhere?"

He looked at her uncertainly. "No, sorry."

"Hmm. Thanks anyway," she said. "I'm Penelope Clearwater; I assume you're Ron? Percy always talks about you."

Ron wondered if that might have been a good thing, but he saw the amused gleam in her eyes and decided Percy probably ranted about him to relieve stress. "Right..."

"Well," she smiled again. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant just like Percy in your lessons!" And then she loped off, while he made a horrified face.

"Just like Percy," he echoed. "What a terrifying thought."

Ron was halfway to the compartment when he got stalled by another girl, this one with mocha skin and intelligent eyes. "Hullo."

"Hi," Ron said.

"Weasley, right?" The girl said, putting her hands on her hips.

Ron bit back a sarcastic, 'Obviously,' and just answered with, "Yes, why?"

She pursed her lips. "I'm Angelina Johnson, same year as your twin brothers. Make sure you don't turn any girl's hair into tentacles just like Fred and George did, or you'll get a whopping."

Ron blinked at Angelina. "Just like Fred and George?" he said slowly, giving her a look.

Angelina nodded, and waved her hand carelessly. "Just a warning. Those two almost made me rethink the whole magic thing." She paused, and then smiled. "See you, then."

Ron nodded, and when they went their separate ways, he sighed loudly, and then continued his trudge back to his compartment with Harry.

Just then, a built and burly older boy stopped him, with a slightly maniacal look in his eyes as he looked at Ron. "Ah, another Weasley!"

Ron gnashed his teeth. If he had to hear that _one more time_, he was going to implode.

The boy went on cheerfully. "Looking forward to having you in the Quidditch team," he said, as he took Ron's hand and pumped it up and down. "I hope you play just like Charlie! That man's a legend!"

And then he was gone, and Ron was starting to feel rather unhinged. "Just like Charlie."

Then he stomped his way back to the compartment.

* * *

Hermione panted at the doorway for a while, and then looked at Harry. "Have you seen Trevor yet? He might have been thrown... You could have seen him flying past the window on your door..."

Harry stared at her, then shook his head. Hermione nodded despairingly, and then closed the door. Harry sat in silence for a while, wondering how long it would take for Ron to throw up all those Cauldron Cakes. He glanced at the pile of wrappers and sighed.

The door slammed open again, and then a sound of acute dismay made Harry look up. The pale boy from Diagon Alley was there, eyeing him warily. Harry grinned in pleasant surprise. "Hello!"

"Hello." The pale boy stood there awkwardly, and then moved to shut the door. "Bye then."

"No, wait!" Harry said.

The boy stopped.

"Er," Harry said awkwardly, wondering why he had stopped him, "Why... Why did you come over here?"

The pale boy flicked his gaze at him, and Harry patted the spot next to him hopefully. The boy looked long-suffering, but he sat gingerly down next to Harry. "I'm looking for Harry Potter," he intoned despondently. "Father told me to. I'm starting to think he's crazier than my mother." And then the boy widened his eyes and raised his chin, looking like he wanted to slap his own mouth.

Harry sat there uncomfortably for a while, and then said, "Why, don't you want to meet Harry Potter?"

The boy smirked at him smugly. "I bet he's a git."

Harry gave him a look, miffed. "I bet he's not!"

"Well," the boy shrugged. "Whatever lights your candle."

"Harry's not a git," Harry said firmly.

The boy pursed his lips. "I can't find him anywhere on this bloody train! He's doing it on purpose, I'm sure. But do you know what I think?" He leaned in conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. Harry looked at him. "He's probably already prowling around the train for evil things to slay," the boy said triumphantly. "What a paranoid fool!"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "That almost sounds as ridiculous as your book romance."

The boy blinked, and then scrunched up his face, though he turned slightly pink. "I think _you're_ a git. Bringing that up! Honestly!"

Harry flushed. "Sorry, but you have to admit—"

"Did your parents not raise you right?" The boy scoffed. "That was completely unnecessary!"

Harry's face blanked immediately. "My parents are dead."

The boy blinked. "Oh, sorry," he said casually, not sounding very sorry at all. They sat in uncomfortable silence before the boy cleared his throat. "My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said, sticking out his hand. "Who're you?"

Harry smiled faintly, thinking of James Bond, and shook his hand. "Potter, Harry Potter."

Draco Malfoy stared and then scowled at him. He thought back to the time at Madam Malkin's and thought that Harry Potter would never have fallen for his getaway trick. "No, I'm serious."

Harry shook his head. "Really. I am." He paused. "And I'm not a git. And— And I don't prowl around to slay evil things."

Draco narrowed his eyes, and then quick as a flash, he pulled up Harry's bangs. He gaped at him with wide grey eyes, looking at the lightning-shaped scar, and then sat back. "No," he whined. "No, this isn't fair!"

"What? Why?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Draco crossed his arms. "Harry Potter thinks that I am a blabbering idiot, you idiot," he said abruptly. "Father shall kill me when he finds out."

"Er," Harry started slowly. "I don't think you're an idiot, not really..." Then he frowned. "You should stop calling other people idiots."

Draco was about to answer, but then Ron came in, looking pinched and annoyed. Draco and Ron stared at each other for a second.

Harry looked at them, and, feeling the rising, inexplicable tension in the room, blurted out, "Ron, Ron Weasley, meet Draco Malfoy."

"A _Weasley_?" Draco said, clearly disdainful.

"A_ Malfoy_?" said Ron. "Ugh." If he had been in a better mood, he would have just discreetly laughed; but now he was about ready to pick a fight.

Draco bristled. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Harry stared at Draco, gaping.

Ron turned a deep shade of red and said, "You Malfoys think you're all so high up. Rich snobs, and all dark wizards. I bet you'll be in Slytherin, won't you?"

"Slytherin," Draco hissed, "is a _great_ house. And at least I have more money now than you'll ever have in your lifetime!"

"Okay, stop." Harry said. "Stop it."

"What, you're not going to deny your dark wizardry?" Ron shot back.

Draco stood up, and Harry tried to pull him back down. Draco shrugged him off, and pinned Harry with a venomous glare. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there, starting with _Weasley_ here!"

Harry stood up as well. "I can tell who the wrong sort are myself, thank you. I don't need any help."

Draco reeled back in offense, and then shoved his way out of the compartment. "You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys, and it'll rub off on you!" he spat waspishly as he left.

Harry and Ron stared at the door for a while; Ron glaring, Harry feeling slightly overwhelmed and with a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth, feeling as though he had lost a friend before they had even been friends.


End file.
